Shatter Me
by I've Been a Labrat
Summary: After escaping his mother, Gabrielle, David lived with his father and dysfunctional family in New York, growing up and watching Charles wither from a hopeful man to a miserable drunk. Upon finding his father has busted Erik out of prison, David is desperate to return and help with whatever is going on, and return to the man who is like a second father to him.
1. Crystallize

_So after posting one of several companion pieces to this (Lullaby for My Little Insomniac), and receiving good feedback that people enjoyed David and that some would like to see more, I decided to go ahead with posting this. It's a telling of Days of Future Past from the point of view of David Xavier, Charles's son (canon in the comics as David Haller). I've taken artistic license with several things, though I have kept David as being a telepath and having mental issues, though not to the degree in the comics where he had Multiple Personality Disorder. Feedback is highly appreciated, and there will be plenty of Charles, Erik, Hank, and Logan in the coming chapters. For now you get to enjoy Dr. Cecilia Reyes being 100% done with David._

* * *

Travelling with his Aunt Cece-she'd given him a wet willie for still calling her that now he was no longer a little boy-was the last thing he thought he'd be doing with his father's current rocky state of existence. Really, it was the last thing he'd thought he'd be doing when he was a kid too, but that was only because his mother was an evil witch. Now his father had grown a scraggly pathetic excuse for a beard and his hair was long and greasy-looking, and now he'd stopped caring how he dressed-seriously, don't wear a white shirt if you're just going to spill scotch on it. David frowned, furrowing his brow as he looked out the plane window. Why Cecilia had made him sit by the window when he had a deathly fear of heights, he had no clue, but he wasn't enjoying himself by any means. The recycled air tasted gross on his tongue and filled his nostrils with staleness. He also wasn't old enough to enjoy any alcohol the plane had to offer, and oh, sometimes he did prefer his father's current state of irresponsibility, which allowed David plenty of access to the mansion's alcohol stash. His sudoku puzzle book was long filled up with numbers that were currently swimming even in his wide awake vision, making him even more jittery than he already was. If they didn't land soon, he might end up having a meltdown-which he hadn't had in a year, an impressive record for him-and his heart was already beating a little too quickly at the thought of disappointing Cecilia.

He couldn't control himself. He'd known that since his mother hit him the first time as a toddler for screaming when she took away the watch he was playing with. A bitter part of him insisted it was her fault, she knew he was obsessed with time and clocks, and still took it away, which set him off. But the rational part of him-god only knew how he developed that part-chided him and reminded him he shouldn't have screamed and pitched a fit, at greater volume and length than a normal toddler would have. Because he'd always been different, always lacking control of himself. He got obsessed with some specific thing so easily-clocks and time, Star Trek-he'd plastered anything relating to Lieutenant Uhura all over his room-Sesame Street even though when it came out he was a teenager, chess, painting bloody and gruesome scenes on canvases. It was all so ridiculous of him. But he focused on it because it made his head hurt less, made him feel like he wasn't weird and freakish, made him feel as though there might be a little niche in the world for him after all. He sort of got the hang of communicating over the years, though for a short while he wouldn't speak in anything but binary and only Uncle Hank and his father could understand him. Or… what he thought was binary, anyway. Turned out binary was 0 and 1, not all the numbers. When he found that out, he pitched an absolute fit and switched immediately to Mandarin, hurling insults at his adoptive uncles even though they hadn't done anything to him. Because he overreacted to everything and took it out on everyone who hadn't actually pissed him off.

"David," Cecilia's voice spoke quietly, breaking him out of his trance and reminding him just how much he hated this phoqueing plane and how much he hated the pilot and the flight attendants-

He breathed out slowly when Cecilia laid a hand on his arm, focusing on deep breaths taken through his mouth so at least he didn't have to smell the stale air. When he felt slightly less on the verge of snapping someone's neck, he flashed his aunt a small smile. She wasn't fooled, of course not, but she let go of his arm-oh, she'd been gripping it, not just laying her hand on it. Made sense to him, because if she had a preemptive grip on him, she could wrestle him back into his seat that much easier if he tried to move. It then occurred to him he'd been put by the window not to torment him, but to keep him better in check. Just another reason to make him wish he was normal and not… whatever he was.

His father had explained his condition to him once, when he was younger. David had been so distraught at the confirmation he really was a freak that he'd pitched a fit and then never asked about it again. If a medical professional could tell something was wrong with him-other than his mutation, which he could live with, maybe-then there was clearly something amiss. Amiss. Remiss. Miss. Ms. Mister. Frau, fraulein, herr… He wouldn't think about Erik. He wouldn't think of the man who taught him German and chess and who told him he was wonderful even with his blue hair and full heterochromia. Even though his father couldn't hear now, he still wouldn't think of Erik. It hurt to think about him.

Shaking his head to clear it, David nearly jumped up and screamed in relief upon hearing the announcement the plane would be landing soon. Drumming his fingers impatiently on the armrest, he hopped up eagerly when Cecilia rose out of her seat, and he followed her off the plane-unable to control himself long enough not to give the businessman behind him a dirty look for bumping into him, because David couldn't stand to be touched and it was sort of social protocol to not touch other people, so he figured he was safe to react just a little out of normal bounds. He cast a gaze out at the surrounding area, beyond the tarmac, and smiled. Hello, Tokyo.


	2. Beyond the Veil

"So who exactly are we looking for?" He questioned Cecilia later, after he'd sufficiently breathed polluted air into his lungs and convinced Cecilia he should have some diluted alcohol. Polluted the air may be, but at least it wasn't recycled.

"Someone your father recruited several years ago. He stayed with the Brotherhood before they scattered, and from what Charles told me, he was extremely fond of Japan." Cecilia made a face, which didn't make sense to him. Who wouldn't love Japan? She gave him a look, and David swallowed his comments. "If you sense a Shiro or Leyu Yoshida, let me know."

"Who's Leyu?" David asked, cringing back against the building wall at the thought of joining the thick crowd on the sidewalk.

Cecilia took him by the elbow and dragged him into the midst of moving bodies. "Shiro's sister. Anything?" She glanced at him.

David hissed, shaking his head sharply. "I can't find them that quickly, Cecilia!"

"Don't get your panties in a wad," she replied without missing a beat, steering him along even though he could feel himself growing ready to hit whoever next bumped into him. "You'll have to forgive me for thinking you could find them quickly, considering you were able to spot Angel in New York City within five minutes, and you were, what, nine then?"

"Forget it," he muttered, jerking away from her. Cecilia sighed heavily and walked after him, for which David was only half-grateful. She had always followed him, to make sure he was alright. Same with Aunt Raven. And Erik. And his uncles. And his father. Always wanting to be sure he was safe, and not going to explode. Cecilia Reyes was probably the best person to look after him, since his father was depressed and gross, Hank was trying to take care of Charles, Alex and Forge were in Vietnam, Raven was God knew where, and Erik was in prison. Cecilia was the only responsible adult left, really. She was better than Alex and Forge at babysitting anyway. Better than Raven was up for debate, since Raven was fun and bought him things and shifted to be other people to get them into places they shouldn't be. Maybe Cecilia was better at responsibility. That sounded good.

He knew his father severely disagreed on Erik's suitability as a babysitter. But David couldn't resist snapping back that he'd once trusted Erik with David's life. His father always stormed off, muttering about disrespectful children, which only made David want to scream. If he didn't want a disrespectful child, then he should've been more of a parent the past few years instead of looking like a porn star and becoming a full time alcoholic.

When he next looked up, checking to see where he was, he was faced with a sickening amount of people bustling around the streets lined with shops. Stumbling back a little, David put a hand to his head, blinking as he focused on the ground to try and steady himself. Cecilia was beside him now, asking if he was alright. She carefully lead him inside a small restaurant, sitting him down, saying something about how he probably had jet lag. They both know what it really was, but he appreciated her lie, nonetheless.

Gulping in a few breaths, he inhaled the aroma of food and couldn't resist licking his lips a little. "Where are we?"

"Center Gai," she replied, thanking the waitress in flawless Japanese and turning back to him as he impolitely chugged half his water glass. "You're a pig."

"Yep." David set the glass down, adjusting the turtleneck around his neck, and his jacket. "Juxtaposition ridden too," he added, reminding her of the fact that he looked nice until you looked down at his feet, which had neon colored sneakers.

"Feeling better?"

He shrugged, not wanting to say 'yes' in case she decided they go back outside immediately. He could block out everyone's minds as a defense mechanism-he'd had enough of sucking in dying minds like a vacuum, thank you very much-but still being near other people was enough to set him off.

He wondered what his father was doing at that moment. Probably drinking another bottle of scotch while Hank tried to placate him. If David had been properly taught how to check on close bonds from a long distance, he might know exactly how things were going back home. But since his father never bothered to teach him, flat out refusing, even, David was stuck drumming his fingers on the table and sulking. It wasn't as though he'd use the long distance telepathy skills for anything but checking on his family.

Well… that wasn't true at all. He'd definitely use it for "evil" as his father called it. Giving aneurysms to the world's assholes seemed a pretty good idea. Killing James Earl Ray would be a great start to that, he'd planned it out. Erik would be proud. Anyone who could shoot a good man, as Ray had done, deserved to be punished. David wasn't up for anything gruesome-he had a terrible gag reflex that would definitely rear its ugly head the minute he started stabbing somebody-but an aneurysm was clean and would look like an accident. He couldn't be suspected, no mutant could, not like Erik with the magically curving bullet.

Which he still didn't believe. Oh, he saw the footage. He saw all of it. He'd read the newspaper articles in hundreds of different prints across the country. Ever since he was a little boy, he'd been devastated that one of his biggest heroes could be arrested and accused of killing JFK. Sure, he'd liked the president a little. Grew to like him a hell of a lot more as he got older, but at the time, when he was only eight, he was in tears when he heard Erik was blamed for it, JFK's importance be damned. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe Erik was responsible.

Everyone else around him could, apparently. Even his father, after all those months they'd spent with Erik and the Brotherhood. Even his father could believe it. A rift had opened between him and his father then. He'd been precocious enough to understand somewhat the severity, the reality, of what it meant for his father to believe Erik killed JFK. Those few months they'd spent with the Brotherhood, he'd seen how much the two men meant to each other. David had called Erik "vater" and grown to see Erik as a second father. Better parent to him than his mother ever was, and Erik didn't even have to try that hard. It hurt to think about Erik. He knew, from his nosy habits, that Erik was imprisoned in the Pentagon. Which was the dumbest place he could think of for housing a prisoner, honestly. Why not ship him off to the Bermuda Triangle? Probably didn't want to risk him getting hold of the missing planes and ships, now that he thought about it. Still. Anything would be less stupid than holding someone in the Pentagon.

"David, let's go," Cecilia ordered, snapping him rudely out of his thoughts. She gave him a look that offered no room for argument, but he still argued anyway.

"No, too many people out there. It pisses me off."

They both glared at each other, recalling all the times in years past where they'd had basically the same argument over… and over… and over… and over… and over. His aunts and uncles had tried to be understanding, but he had a habit of going past their understanding and pissing them off. He could hold up his father to make his point, and that'd be enough to do it, no one else required for testimony. He sometimes pictured himself a lawyer, but quickly dropped the train of thought when he realized he was thinking about it. He was too abnormal. It would never happen.

Cecilia took him by the arm and pulled him out, even though he glowered and spat his displeasure. She was great at ignoring him, though, just like she'd been great at ignoring Alex when he was acting like a douche way back when. She'd been great at ignoring Erik being a jerk too, and when the people at her job questioned her competence, being a woman and black and all. They were surprised she could speak Spanish too. Interracial breeding was still a new concept, David supposed, even though he recalled a certain Uncle McCoy informing him of the Founding Fathers' habit of having a large amount of children with their slaves. It never ceased to amaze David how good people were at ignoring what they disliked. He did it too, he knew it, but it was still funny. His father ignored Erik's existence, so did his aunts and uncles-well, except Raven, but she'd been Erik's right hand, so she kind of had to acknowledge his existence. Cecilia ignored all the racists and sexists and just focused on her job. Sean used to ignore everyone when they told him smoking pot was bad for him.

David's mother had ignored him… sometimes. Other times she wanted to take out her anger on him. _If you couldn't handle PTSD from the Holocaust_, David thought, shaking with fury now, _then you shouldn't have children and then blame them for everything that happened_. He was sure that Erik never would've taken it out on his kids, if he had any. He never took it out on David. But Erik was different. He was complex, even he could see that, at age seven and eight. Erik was always glaring at the members of the Brotherhood, but then he'd turn around at smile at Charles or David. Erik would tell Aunt Raven to stop crying, but then he'd hold David if he had a nightmare. Likely because he was a kid back then. Erik had a soft spot for kids. He'd once told David he'd suffered as a child, and that was why he held his rare empathy for David. The Brotherhood knew about the terrorist attack, of course. They'd been in Paris, Charles had convinced Emma to help him run off and rescue David at the Haller residence. David had been trying to bash his skull open, head too full after Jemail Karami's mind had been sucked into his own. His father had dropped himself out of his chair, pulling David into his arms and trying to soothe him even in the midst of a seizure.

Erik had been pissed that his two telepaths just up and left, even though there'd been no complications with the mission. They'd even stood around for ten minutes, waiting for Charles and Emma to reappear, before Azazel brought them to the right coordinates. Aunt Raven had been distraught, rushing over to David immediately. The others were all confused, since there were five bodies on the floor, Emma was filing her nails, and Gabrielle Haller had been sobbing in a corner. After, when David had woken from the sleep his father induced, he'd been introduced to the fearsome Magneto. Said fearsome Magneto proceeded to be rather concerned about David's wellbeing, and had even ruffled his hair.

Fearsome. David snorted. Fearsome to… well, let's put it this way. It was always easier to list the people Erik liked, rather than the people Erik disliked. Because Erik, as a rule, hated everyone and suspected them guilty until proven innocent. Erik was fearsome to everyone except those he cared about. His list was tiny, really, factoring in the several billions of humans and mutants around the world. Über tiny. Charles, David, Raven, maybe Hank, maybe Alex, maybe Forge, maybe Cecilia, and… well, that was it. The others had all died.

David rubbed his head at the thought, Sean still weighing heavily on his heart and mind even though it'd been five years. He'd never get over it. None of them would. Somehow it was easier to think of Sean, though, because he was dead and people had been on his side up to the end. It was easier for him to think about those who were dead, than those who were alive. The thought of Erik made him sick and pained, while Sean it just throbbed. Erik hadn't anyone on his side, not now. He'd made himself everyone's enemy. Every adult's enemy, at least. David still had hero worship for him, and he doubted anyone could take that away. Even if he watched Erik kill someone, David would still worship the ground he walked on.

He ignored the hundreds of thousands of bodies that made up the trail Erik left in his wake. He ignored the way Erik had betrayed his father, and how his father had betrayed Erik. He ignored how Aunt Raven had still stuck with Erik even though it broke his father's heart to a thousand pieces. People tended to do that with their heroes: ignore the faults. Ignore all the bad shit they pulled and how many people they hurt. It was easier just to worship the good parts, and exaggerate how good a person was. Much easier. So David did that with Erik. Erik had held him when he had a nightmare, had tucked him back into bed, had gotten him the last piece of pie in the fridge and had dared Riptide to say anything about it the next morning. Erik was one in several people who helped him learn to communicate. Erik taught him chess, patiently explaining what each piece was and how they moved, and guided him in learning the fine art of the game. He hyperbolized Erik's shining moments since he logically knew those moments were crazily infrequent. And he ignored everything that made Erik the cold blooded, dangerously calculating killer he was known as.


	3. Transcendence

_Thank you Aido and charlie7694 for following/favoriting this story. Also thank you to HwGenius for leaving me a review._

* * *

"Didn't they say something about how it was a dangerous thing when a man sought peace outside his home?" David inquired to Cecilia later, as they sped along in a train through Japan's countryside. A metric ton of cherry blossom trees all around them, and a mountain in the distance. Fuji was the only one he knew, so he wasn't about to make a fool of himself by asking if that was Fuji.

Cecilia glanced up from her book, furrowing her brow. You never did get used to David's out of the blue statements. And who was "they?" "What?"

"In _A Raisin in the Sun_, stupid," David ground out impatiently, frowning at her and crossing his arms.

"Don't get snippy with me."

"So did they or did they not?"

"Yes," she answered cautiously, unsure where David was going with this.

David suddenly looked stricken. "So by that logic, I'm dangerous." Before Cecilia could ask what the hell he was talking about, he continued with a syllogism, unsettled by the whole thing. "It's dangerous when a man goes outside his home to find peace. I go outside my home to find peace. Therefore, I'm dangerous."

Cecilia knew he was upset. She knew she should be placating him. She knew she should do the adult and mature thing and inform him why he was wrong this time. But instead she covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.

David was bewildered at her response, leaning forward a little to see if something was wrong with her. "What's so funny?"

"You," she managed to get out, still laughing.

He jerked back like he'd been slapped, offended enough for his nostrils to flare. "No, I'm not!" David snapped, his hands curling into fists.

"Oh, you are, believe me… oh, God." She took off her glasses, cleaning them on her sweater vest as David looked torn between sulking and hitting her. "David, you are so completely random and you worry about everything."

He scoffed, looking away. Teach him to confide in her about anything.


	4. Roundtable Rival

_Thank you very much to Narutoske and NotMarge for leaving reviews! I appreciate it!_

_Narutoske: Thank you, that's great to hear. :) David's personality is a product of being raised during a time when his father was drowning in his sorrows, and instead of having a rock to ground David when he needed help dealing with his issues, he got Charles. Plus, Erik was such an enormous influence on David in the short time they knew one another that Erik's way of thinking still impacts David ten years later._

_NotMarge: Yes, he is one reason Charles starts drinking much more excessively. He feels like a failure to his own son, and instead of being proactive, he takes his (lately) usual route of numbing everything he can't deal with. I thought so too, though I'm hoping Charles and Erik can both realize it's unhealthy for this kid they both love to be so caught up in bitterness and help David mellow out. And yeah, I've been saying Charles looked like a porn star before the movie even came out, haha. Ah, the 70s._

* * *

"Please, I really want to talk to him," David pleaded with her, even clasping his hands together to make himself seem more desperate. It was amusing how much he craved a conversation with his father, especially after they'd been so distant from each other recently, and after their goodbye before he and Cecilia left for Japan had been less than warm. But he still wanted to talk to his father. He was always going to be attached to him, and he missed him terribly. Daddy's boy, he supposed. Even if his father dressed gross, bathed less than he should, and looked like a hobo. Oh, and was usually drunk, or at least tipsy. He still loved his father, though.

Cecilia threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine, go to that payphone and call him. Just know it's coming out of your pocket, not mine." She pinched the bridge of her nose as David darted across the street to the payphone, dodging cars that blared their horns while their owners yelled at David. Cecilia winced as she caught the words "doke" and "Kono yarou." She was glad David didn't speak a lick of Japanese outside of calling people idiots, saying hello, and saying goodbye. Otherwise she'd probably be pulling him off a few poor people by now. However, David had apparently decided to ignore anyone he didn't understand, which Cecilia thanked a higher power for. Made him easier to deal with when he screwed up foreign customs and ignored being yelled at. Then again, it just made him obnoxious because then she was usually the poor sap that had to clean up after him.

David dug change out of his bag, slotting the coins impatiently and picking up the receiver. He dialed the number for the mansion, sighing and leaning against the wall by the phone after the phone rang once. He checked his watch after it rang twice, and almost cussed out Hank when he picked it up on the third ring. "I want to talk to my dad," David said immediately, hearing a sigh on the other end.

"_Nice to talk to you too, David,"_ Hank said drily, knowing unfortunately the sarcasm was lost on the boy.

"Hurry up," he replied, in no mood for chit-chat.

"_Hold on."_ David heard a distant shout of "Charles! It's David!" and he checked his watch again. Then he heard the phone change hands, and his father's voice groggily greeting him.

"Hi, Dad."

"_How's Japan?"_

"Boring as hell, because Cecilia won't let me buy anything." He looked up when Cecilia cleared her throat, rolling his eyes at her.

"_With good reason. You went to Beijing and came back with a bloody chess set carved from jade, remember?"_

"I didn't hear you complaining when you were admiring it," David pointed out.

"_Or when you decided to buy several cases of lager when you and Cecilia went to Germany last year."_

David narrowed his eyes. "Again, didn't hear you complaining when you drank half."

"_You're incredibly disrespectful."_

David sighed irritably. "How's the house?"

There was a suspicious pause on the line. "_Fine."_

"There's something you're not telling me."

"_David, I said everything is fine."_

"_What_, Cecilia?" He turned on her after she'd tapped his shoulder, gritting his teeth. He nearly dropped the phone when he saw the headline on the newspaper she held up, her eyes wide. DANGEROUS MUTANT ESCAPES. David's eyes flitted down to the picture below, blanching further when he saw who it was of. Hank, his father, some random man, and… Erik.

"_You still there?"_ His father questioned.

David blinked once more, turning back to the phone. "Uh… Dad… you… broke Erik out of prison?"

He could practically see the grimace on his father's face. "_You found out?"_

Cecilia gestured for David to hand her the phone, and he reluctantly did, still in complete and utter shock. "Charles, it's Cecilia."

David didn't care if it was wrong of him to. He dove into the frontal parts of Cecilia's mind, desperate to hear the conversation and why exactly his father had even gone near the Pentagon, let alone Washington.

_There's this man, Logan is his name. He's a mutant and… he came to the house. Told us some things about how he's from the future-_

"Wait, the future?" Cecilia narrowed her eyes. "Charles, have you finally killed off all your brain cells and now you're believing any jackass who comes to the house?"

_He told me about how I started hearing people in my head when I was nine, and I finally figured out I was a telepath at twelve. I've never told anyone that before, so…_

She sighed. "Alright, so he's telling the truth. Why is he here?"

_There are mutant-hunting things called Sentinels that… well, our kind is almost extinct in the future, if not imprisoned in death camps._

"Sounds like someone didn't learn from their history, if they're running death camps," Cecilia sounded both disbelieving and angered. David could feel himself literally getting a nosebleed over the news, shaking his head and running a hand through temporarily black hair. He had to disguise himself to the humans, projecting a mental image of himself with two blue eyes and black hair to everyone. They couldn't risk being found out as mutants.

_We've got to stop Raven killing Bolivar Trask, otherwise the Sentinels will wreak havoc and slaughter us all… along with the humans. We already tried in Paris, but… well…_

"Let me guess," Cecilia began, sighing already, "Erik decided it was a fine time to fuck up everything again, right?" She ignored David's death glare.

_I shouldn't be surprised, but I… I thought he'd changed, even a little._

"You're too good for other people, Charles, even if you have been a drunken ass lately."

A small chuckle, amused a little, yet mostly rueful. _Thank you for that._

"Cecilia, let me talk to him," David said, gesturing impatiently for the phone and gritting his teeth when she shook her head.

"Do you want us to come back?"

Before Charles could answer, David pounced and yanked the phone away, speaking too rapidly and disjointedly for Cecilia or his father to possibly understand.

"_Erm… could you repeat that?"_

He huffed and rolled his eyes, but repeated himself, nonetheless. "I _said_, 'I want to come back immediately and help stop Aunt Raven from killing Trask… even if the guy is a bastard.'"

The silence for a moment over the phone was disconcerting, and he almost asked if his father was still there before hearing Charles's voice once more. The words were the opposite of what he wanted to hear. "_Absolutely not. I don't want you involved in this, David. Now, hand the phone back to Cecilia so I can speak with her."_

"No! You're making a mistake, Dad! I'm powerful enough, I could help, I know I could. You just won't give me the chance to prove it. Besides… maybe… maybe if I could talk to Erik, he'd listen to me. I don't believe he's trying to hurt any of us with whatever he's doing. He wouldn't," David's voice had grown smaller with every word, hardly above a whisper by the time he finished.

"_Do not presume to know what I'm making mistakes about, or whether you can change him." _Charles's voice was icy when he said the last word, and they both knew good and well who it was. David shut his eyes, not wanting to hear that tone in reference to Erik. "_You are to continue finding Shiro and Leyu, with Cecilia keeping an eye on you. Do I make myself clear?"_

He began to shake his head, eyes watering in anger and hurt, but Cecilia's hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he jerked away from her. His father rarely laid down the law with him, had always tried to take an approach of explaining and reasoning rather than merely using parental authority. David remembered his father telling him it was because not only had David's mother abused her authority, but his father's own parents had as well. He'd grown to respect his father's methods, so when he did put his foot down, it shook David to the core and made him feel lightheaded, sick even. "Perfectly," he said quietly, submissively. That instinct, whenever he felt threatened by those in power, hadn't completely vanished after he left his mother behind in Paris. He knew it likely never would go away.

"_Good, now hand the phone back to Cecilia."_

David did as he was told, and didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation. He didn't care to know what more his father possibly had to say.


	5. Take Flight

_Thank you to NotMarge and Narutoske for the reviews! You guys are pretty freakin' rad._

_Narutoske: Yeah, I really wish David could know his father was beginning to change and become the man he once was. But then where would I get all my conflict? Heh. You know, I never actually thought about whether Logan knows of David or not. But now that you brought it up, I've concocted something up. It is a little disturbing how attached David is to Erik, I agree. Gabrielle, I will clarify, is just a previous antagonist who abused David as a child, until Charles managed to finally get David out. All the X-Men are still angry with Erik, though, for obvious reasons._

* * *

He knew he should regret what he'd done. It was a terrible, horrible, awful thing he'd done, but he didn't regret it, even though he should. More than anything else, he should regret what he'd done. Drugging Cecilia, his Aunt Cece, was horrible. He would be going to Hell for it, he knew.

But since she refused to see reason, he had to. She'd refused to take him back to the states so he could help his father and Erik. Flat out refused, giving him a look that told him no arguments were to be had unless he wanted to be in extreme trouble. It frustrated him beyond belief, and he admitted he'd had a brief meltdown. But the parenting method his father had read about using was not to give a child satisfaction of attention when it threw a tantrum, and since David was still an uncontrollable, immature child, he was treated as such. And he hated it, because for God's sake, he was turning eighteen in two months. He should control himself and stop acting like he was a little boy. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't. Deep down, his family knew it too, most of all his father.

David swallowed at the thought. Yes, his father, despite all the doubts David had, did still love him. He knew it more than he knew anything else. It was unmistakable, irrevocable fact that his father, Charles Xavier, loved him. And he also knew his father loved him more than anything or anyone else in the entire world… no, universe. There was nothing his father could possibly love more than David, not even Aunt Raven, as much as his father had wept over her for the past ten years. David was akin to the Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt, in that he was the morning and evening star for his father. The sun in his father's world, no matter what he was wrapped up in, always rose and set with David.

But like people did with all things they didn't like, David ignored it. Even as his lip trembled and his eyes burned, he ignored the fact that his father loved him. It was easier to think everyone was against David than it was to think someone was on his side, always. It was easier to think like he knew Erik did, that he was alone and he had to fight for himself because no one cared about him. It was so much easier to think he and Erik were on each other's side, but they were separated and that made it hard, but they still remained side by side. So much less difficult and it eliminated all heartbreak David suffered when he looked at how far his father had fallen over the years.

He still remembered when he was a little boy, his father being his knight in shining armor. Saving him from his mother and telling David he was the best thing to happen in his father's life. His father was always intelligent, prideful, well groomed and organized. His heart and soul were always open to those he thought needed guidance, inspiration, or simply love. He gave with reckless abandon, never once thinking of himself because he was too caught up in getting others to feel joy or at least peace, at least once in their lives. Feeling his father's mind linked to his own, growing up, David had always felt as though it was an oasis of warmth and joy while he was trapped like a caged animal in his mother's Parisian apartment.

When the men had come, yelling in some foreign language and scaring him to death, David had called out desperately to his father in any way he knew how. He watched his stepfather, Daniel Shomron, be gunned down while the men laughed. Cecilia and Hank lectured him to this day on being so racist and discriminatory against Muslims, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Men with turbans on their heads had broken into the house and exposed him to death when he was but a child. It was technically hypocritical of him, since he wanted equality for mutants and for his kind to not be seen as all dangerous. But he ignored it, because it was easier than accepting he was a hypocrite and then trying to change.

His mother had been sobbing, screaming at them as she fell to the floor beside Daniel Shomron's body. Her hands pressed to his chest and head, and when she pulled them back, there was blood everywhere. It soaked into her dress and tights, the puddle growing and pooling across the kitchen floor. David had backed away from it, he remembered, and screamed enough to make the hair on his own neck stand up. He understood now, that the men were terrorists who hated Jews, and they'd been planning to kill his mother and David too. At the time, no one could have possibly explained it in a way for him to understand. There had been brain matter, he knew now. Those greyish pink chunks that were soaked in blood were pieces of his stepfather's brain.

Jolting out of the reliving of his nightmare, David blinked and looked around. People were looking at him, some openly staring and others trying to look without being obvious. He cast a glare that swept over all of them, and they shifted uncomfortably as their eyes darted away. Nosy bastards.

He wished they would hurry up and announce the boarding of his plane, so he could get away from most of these idiots. At the same time, he was feeling panic at the thought of getting back on a plane. It was stupid, he'd already ridden from Japan to San Francisco. But he was still frightened, that confined space where if he pitched a fit and lost control, he'd have to sit there and face his shame until they landed.

But he had to. He had to face his demons, be a big boy, and do what he had to do, not what he wanted to do. It shouldn't have been such a vicious struggle within him, yet it was. And it made him disgusted with himself, even though he couldn't stop feeling conflicted about wants vs. needs. It had always been his biggest conflict, having never been able to get past that childlike mindset. He'd always put himself and his desires first, thinking of others after everything else, rather than doing the mature, adult thing and thinking of people besides himself.

No. He had to do this. If he did anything because he had to in life, it would be this. His heart pounded when he thought of Erik, "vati," who might run off again. This might be David's only chance to convince Erik he needed him in his life, because his father loved him but passive love only got so far in looking out for David. Erik had sworn to protect David, and he needed to go to the man. Beg him to make good on that promise. Beg him to stay and take care of him because dammit all David was desperate for someone he could trust and who would really, truly defend him against the world.

He didn't have a choice. He didn't want to go on that blasted plane and then get off in New York to beg Erik. But he had to, or he'd be an incline plane wrapped helically around an axis.

In Layman's terms, he'd be screwed.


	6. Song of the Caged Bird

_A huge thank you to everyone who left a review, and who decided to follow this story! I've really enjoyed getting so dark with David's past and his mind, especially delving into his main conflict of choosing between Charles and Erik._

_NotMarge: Oh, I know. What's sad is, with less detail, that's what happened in the comics to David. Poor kid definitely needs to have some control placed over him before he goes absolutely insane. And yes, it was a TBBT reference! I like to follow Joss Whedon's philosophy of making things tragic and then telling a joke to relieve the tension._

_Narutoske: Certainly the opposite of Charles, though they have a lot in common in DOFP. And no, Gabrielle is really not worthy of being a mother, here or in the comics. I'll definitely put Logan in the upcoming chapters, don't worry. David's going to run off to Washington and arrive after Erik's already left, so he can continue to be in denial about Erik's more asshole-ish qualities._

_Crazytenor42: Thanks! I figured David would likely be a TBBT fan if he lived in the future. He shares some qualities with Sheldon, for sure._

_caligirlsd99: Oh, you're too nice, thank you very much! You're absolutely right, Erik has actually maintained slightly more of a place in David's mind than Charles, which brings a ton of conflict into everything._

_I dedicate part of this chapter to NotMarge, since she's an even bigger Hank fan than I am, and I knew she'd appreciate the references made to Hank here._

* * *

David only just realized his transportation predicament upon stepping out of the airport, and coming to terms with the fact that he didn't know how to drive.

It wasn't something anyone had taught him, figuring he was too dependent on his family to need to learn how to drive. Which, they were correct, he hated to admit, but still. Now he had no way of getting back to the mansion, where he knew his father and Erik were. And considering Aunt Raven was still at large, he doubted they'd be there for long, which set him off panicking.

Hard pressed to find a taxi driver who would drive him all the way from the City to upstate New York, he leaned up against a wall and tried to calm his pounding heart. All alone in the enormous city, outside an airport, holding a ton of money but no knowledge of how to buy people's will with it. He'd never been by himself before. There was always someone at his side, directing him on his next actions. But not now. David's eyes darted around, searching desperately for something, anything that could help him. He knew it was pointless, but he still tried because he didn't know what else to do.

Apparently, luck was on his side. He must've looked less moody and more scared than anything, and a woman approached him.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?" She asked. She was shorter than even he was, blonde hair that was greying, glasses perched on her nose, in her fifties or so. She seemed concerned for him, and David latched onto that.

"I um…" He coughed, looking down. "I don't know how to get home from here."

"How far is home?"

"Upstate."

The woman patted his arm and turned, calling to someone. "My husband and I are headed upstate as well. You could come with us, if you'd like."

He lifted his head, not quite meeting her eyes. "You're sure? I don't… want you to be suspicious of me or anything."

The woman laughed a bit. "You seem fairly harmless. You remind me of my son." Her husband approached, and they introduced themselves as Edna and Norton McCoy. The names struck something familiar in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him put a finger on it. They apparently had rented a car, and David meekly climbed into the backseat. He mulled over his good fortune from the past few minutes, deciding that these two humans would go on his list of humans to be spared if mutants finally took over. They were kind to a complete stranger, a young man who could be a murderer for all they knew, and were driving him all the way upstate.

Definitely going on the "Humans to Spare" list. He'd pass it along to Erik, just in case.

* * *

"So um…" David began, coughing at his own voice. It still bothered him to speak aloud, as he thought it sounded off, like there was something wrong with him. He knew there _was_ something wrong, but he hated other people knowing it as well. "Why are you going upstate?"

Norton answered. "Seeing our son. He sent a letter asking if he could meet with us again…" Norton trailed off, frowning. "Haven't seen him since he left for college, years ago."

David had to wonder if his father would be that grieved, like Norton was over his son, were David to just up and leave one day without visiting again for years. He hoped, at least, that would be how his father would react. Logically, he knew his father loved him, but again, he still questioned it.

"You in college, son?" Norton asked, looking at David in the rearview mirror.

David shook his head. "I'm only seventeen."

Edna chuckled. "Age has never stopped anyone if they desired something."

He had to smile a little. They were nice, even if they didn't realize he was incapable of going to college when he was even thirty years old. He couldn't go away from home that long, couldn't be among so many _normal_ people all day long for four years. Besides, once he finished those four years, he'd have to go to law school for any number of years. He couldn't do it.

Besides, he knew even if he did go to college, he probably wouldn't end up getting a degree. Which would be wasted time for him, which would make college pointless.

* * *

Hank. Hank. Hank. _Hank McCoy._ How had he not seen it before?

Dammit all, he prided himself on his deductive skills. Yet he hadn't been able to put two and two together and realize the people driving him upstate, who were pulling into the driveway of the mansion, were _Hank_'s parents. _Hank_.

He didn't have time to dwell on it though, because when he reached out with his mind to the house, he couldn't sense even one mind within. Which was _not_ a good thing.

His mind preoccupied shouting curses that bounced around in his skull, he barely managed to fumble open the door and look at the house in the setting sun. _Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck._

* * *

"Guest rooms," David told Edna and Norton, gesturing down the hall. He'd purposely avoided the one that Erik had occupied, down another hall, because he didn't want them going in that room. His father didn't know David had snuck into the room before-or perhaps he did, and just didn't care-and he sure as hell didn't want the McCoys staying in Erik's old room.

"Do you know when Hank and everyone will be back?"

David shrugged. "Hard to say. Soon, probably." _I hope_.

* * *

Running down to the basement wasn't a problem, but what was a problem was the utter lack of evidence for David to use in figuring out where they'd gone. Damn, damn, damn, damn.

He rifled through the study upstairs again, giving up when he realized none of the documents anywhere had changed since the last time he'd been nosy and dug through his father's things. Sighing, he tossed a few papers to the side, gritting his teeth at the obnoxious fluttering noise they made before slithering across the wood floor and rug to their resting places. Walking out to the foyer, he looked around carefully, head turning minutely as his eyes traveled slowly over everything. He had to have missed something. There had to be something here. Something he could use to find his father and Hank and Erik.

_Where could they have possibly fucking gone-_

David's eyes darted back a fraction, catching on the glinting from the last of the evening sun coming through the windows. It was catching on something. He ventured forward, leaning down and picking it up. He almost dropped it again in shock, eyes widening as his nostrils flared.

The serum.

* * *

He pounded down to the basement again, gasping for breath as he rounded the corner to come face to face with Cerebro, standing at the end of the hall. Breathing hard, he only paused for a second before racing forward. It only occurred to him after a moment of waiting for Cerebro to scan him that it would only open for his father.

For that, Cerebro received his sneakered foot kicking into the door once before he turned around and stalked to the side wall. Glowering at the correct wall panel, he held up his hands and muttered curses until the panel finally pulled out of the wall. He tossed it to the side as it clanged on the metal floor, pulling small scissors from his pocket-kid's scissors, because he hated adult ones for their enormous size-and looking over the wires. Shrugging, he carelessly snipped away at wires until he hit the right one to bypass the optical scan, and the door to Cerebro opened. Hank would have his work cut out for him fixing that later, but what did David care? He had shit to do and no asinine piece of technology was going to get in his way.

Walking through the door, the lights on the catwalk didn't light up, and he stopped, fearful about accidentally falling over the edge. The light coming from the hall did little to illuminate the rest of Cerebro beyond a few feet, and he could hardly see past those first steps. David couldn't levitate himself yet, or even keep himself from falling. His telekinesis might never be that powerful, and he didn't feel like risking it. Not now, not when he had to find his father. Not when he had to find Erik.

He got down on his hands and knees, crawling slowly forward and cautious of falling. He cast out nets with his mind, visualizing a bat using echolocation, and allowed the nets to ping back to him what was around him. It didn't keep him from hitting his head on Cerebro's dashboard, however, and he cursed and rubbed his head. Standing up, he blinked and looked over the dashboard in the dim light, putting his hands on either side of the helmet. His brow furrowed when he didn't feel the gross fuzziness of dust on the cool metal, and he narrowed his eyes at empty space as he looked at the far wall of the machine. So he'd been right.

Closing his eyes, David took a steadying breath. He had no way of knowing, until after he'd already used the machine, that he shouldn't have done it in the first place. Only the strongest telepaths with the best control could use it, and only one telepath in the world met the criteria. Cerebro was built for Charles and Charles only, but David didn't know. Even if he had… well, he likely would have used it regardless. Desperation did crazy things to people, he knew that firsthand.

He turned the dials, remembering which ones from memories of going into Cerebro a few times with his father, when he'd been very young. However, considering he remembered all the gory details of Daniel Shomron's death and every cigarette his mother put out on his small arms at an even younger age, David could easily recall this simple thing from his memory banks. It was so easy, almost child's play. Still, even though he considered it easy, his face was beginning to drip with sweat.

David took another breath, lifting the helmet off the dashboard and kneeling on the catwalk, staring at the helmet in his hands for a long moment. He had to do this, whether he was internally shaking or not. His father hadn't looked out for his future in years. It was time for David to take control of his future for once, grasp it in his hands and make decisions for himself. If he didn't, he'd be stuck in this position forever-barely able to fend for himself, always afraid of everything he didn't see on a regular basis. He wasn't a little boy anymore, he couldn't hope Daddy would protect him all the time, like he had when he was small. He was almost eighteen. He would be making his own choices from now on, even after he got everyone back. No one but David would decide his fate.


	7. Shatter Me

_Thank you very much to Narutoske for leaving a review! It will certainly be a long, difficult road before David changes. I would like to say that writing drunk people for this chapter was certainly an interesting change from how it was in "Anything But This." Drunks don't have a filter between their brains and their mouths, so Charles turns into being kind of a bastard at the end. Self-loathing and pessimistic, but still a bastard. I've decided to update early since I have no self-control and I figure it might as well be published since the chapter's ready.  
_

* * *

Breathing hard and still twitching, David's head lolled as he looked up at the curved ceiling of Cerebro, squinting. He could have sworn the panels came crashing down earlier, burying him as his whole body jerked and spasmed wildly.

Must've been his imagination, in the grip of a seizure. Moaning quietly, he braced himself to sit up on one elbow, panting after he'd done so. He'd be here awhile, he sensed. How long had he already been on the floor of the catwalk? He checked his watch, realizing it was futile since he hadn't checked the time before he'd stepped into Cerebro. Damn.

He could no longer deny his lack of understanding for his father's drinking. He understood it now. His mind was full of clarity he hadn't had in a while, startling him a little with the magnitude of it.

Honestly, David could do with a tall bottle of scotch right about now. Alcohol numbed him pretty nicely, as he recalled. So… wonderfully…

* * *

_Hank and Cecilia were out on a short mission, trying to help out a mutant who had been unfairly jailed for something or other._

_David couldn't bring himself to care._

_Alex was in Vietnam, as usual._

_He kind of cared about that._

_Sean was dead, as usual._

_David moaned and leaned against the wall, putting a hand to his head as he grimaced._

_There was disturbing whispering in his head that came up every time he focused on what happened to Sean. It wasn't morbid or malicious, it just… came up._

_An eerie, echoing warbled scream resounded in his mind, and he wished it was his memory. But… he knew it wasn't._

"_David? Is that you?"_

_His father. His father could help. He'd know how to get rid of the voice in his head… one among many. David scrambled up from where he'd curled inward on the floor, hurrying down the hall to his father's bedroom. He found the man on the window seat, struggling with a bottle of some sort of alcohol David didn't immediately recognize._

"_Oh, hello, darling," Charles greeted, fumbling with the bottle again and sighing irritably. "Can you get this?"_

_David, eager to please his father if it'd get him to help the teenager, moved forward and took the bottle, opening it after a little bit of fumbling himself. He wasn't exactly used to opening bottles of… oh, scotch. Right. That was most of what his father drank._

"_Daddy?" He asked, still innocent and blinded enough that he called his father that like he had when he was still a tiny boy._

"_Hm?"_

"_I need your help."_

"_Huh?" Charles looked up, squinting a little._

"_My… my head," David admitted, hoping he'd understand and help._

"_Oh." Tilting his head back, his father swallowed a glass of scotch. "'m not a telepath, darling. Dunno how much I can help."_

"_Please," David begged, sitting on the window seat._

"_Alright, okay, give me… a second…" Charles poured another glass of scotch, and David wanted to cry when he realized he wasn't getting any help._

_He was startled out of that revelation when his father thrust the glass into his hands. "Drink it. I promise, a little swallow will help you feel less…" Charles waved a hand. "Less like you want to put a bullet through your head."_

"_But… I…"_

"_What?"_

"_I'm only sixteen."_

_Charles barked a laugh. "Never stopped me. Trust me, it'll help. I say this from experience."_

"_Oh." David looked at the liquid in the clear glass, frowning at the scotch. It was a light brown, smooth looking, but… it smelled terrible._

"_David, go on. It won't bite." Charles chuckled a little. "Maybe at first, but not after another couple of swallows."_

_He took a breath, leaning his face away from the scotch as he did so, then drank it in one swallow. He coughed roughly as he swallowed it, mouth and nose burning as his eyes watered. His father grabbed hold of him, hitting him lightly on his back as David continued to cough._

"_I'm gonna throw up," he moaned._

"_You're fine. Give it a minute."_

_He gave it a minute. And when he didn't feel much better, his father nudged him to drink more. So he drank more. Several full glasses, and his father chuckled and told him he was a true Xavier, drinking as well as his father had at that age._

"_You'll carry on my legacy," he said confidently, though his words were a bit slurred as he managed to get another bottle open._

_David sat wordlessly on the window seat, gaze lazily drifting from the window and the view outside to his father across from him. His vision was blurred, and his father laughed when he mentioned it, telling him that was normal. David mumbled incoherently, a sleepy smile on his face as he settled more comfortably against the wall._

"_You're a good boy, David."_

_He nodded, little more than a puppet grasping onto his father's words, the strings tying him to the man._

"_And you've never been one to go astray, not from me, right?"_

_He nodded again, yawning as his father handed him the glass they'd been sharing for the past… however long had passed. An hour? No, two… maybe three or four? Ah, who cared? He giggled a little. Time was a funny thing. Got faster when you had fun, went like a slug when you hated what was going on. Time had sure gone fast, he thought, as he drank bottle after bottle with his father. It seemed like an eternity, weirdly, since he took that first drink, though._

_Charles shakily reached out to David, patting him on the head. "Good boy. You won't leave me on a beach with my spine damaged, will you?"_

_David shook his head. "No," he managed to get out._

"_Or leave me when I need you most?"_

"_Never," he said softly, moving forward so he could lean against his father's chest. He could hear his father's heart beat in his chest, the sound soothing him._

_Charles patted his son's head again. "You're wonderful, yeah? Your damned worthless bitch of a mother never deserved you." He hummed quietly for a moment. "Just like my mother never deserved me." Charles laughed, the sound grating on David's ears, bitter as it was. "Yeah, we're a lot alike. Difference 'tween you and me, love," Charles paused to take a drink of scotch, his breath heavy with the smell, "is that I won't go dying on you like my dad did. I promised you, didn't I? When you were a boy. Tiny little thing. I promised you I wouldn't die and leave you alone, right?"_

_David nodded mutely, eyelids drooping._

"_And… and I won't," Charles said, voice suddenly thick. David lifted his head to see tears streaming down his father's face. "I won't. I won't leave you. You won't have to be alone. Because… because without Raven," he sobbed brokenly then, pressing a fist to his mouth. "Without her, I would've been… you wouldn't exist, you know that? If she hadn't been around then, when my father died, then… that would've been it for me."_

_The line Charles drew across his throat froze David for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he stared at his father._

"_My father had guns. He was high class, but he liked the gun collection he kept. He…" Charles laughed, the noise hollow. "They were all loaded, you know? So… so I had a plan all figured out, as a back up. Just in case Raven went away somehow. I'd take one of those guns, a pistol from the first World War, and end it right then."_

"_No!" David cried, eyes wide as he stared at Charles. "No, no, please don't!"_

_Charles laughed, patting David's head. "Don't worry, my boy. Told you already, right? I won't leave you alone, I promise." His eyes darkened as he looked past David, at something in the background. The boy turned his head, eyes falling on the chessboard that had sat pathetically abandoned, gathering dust, for years now. "I won't abandon you like he did."_

_Somehow, even through his slow-working, fogged mind, he could tell his father wasn't talking about Brian Xavier, David's grandfather, anymore. No… it was Erik now._

"_Daddy," he started, and Charles looked back at him, brow furrowing._

"_I love you, my boy," he announced suddenly, taking a swig of scotch._

"_You… you do?"_

"_Very much. You… I'm proud of you. You're smart. You have a good heart in your chest and your head's screwed on tight. You'll… you'll go places." He gestured out, hand hitting the window. "Great places. Never mind you being a little autistic runt like your mother used to call you. You'll be fine in the world, yeah?"_

_David blinked, shrugging a little. "I guess?"_

_Charles grinned then, leaning forward to press a kiss to his son's forehead. "Good boy. Smart boy. You'll be the best damn… lawyer, right?"_

_David nodded. "Yeah."_

"_Best damn lawyer in the world, I guarantee it. You've got my money as inheritance when I finally die… maybe in my eighties or so. You'll make it big, though. Richer than all this inheritance. Smarter than Einstein and Curie and Hawking and all those other bastards combined, right? You'll…" Charles chuckled. "You'll give Hank a run for his money."_

"_I will?"_

"'_Course you will!" Charles shouted, smile still wide. "You're my son, aren't you? You'll be the best damn man in the world when you grow up! Better than I ever was, yeah? You'll stay away from emotional genocide survivors in turtlenecks too, right? And so you won't be a cripple, you'll make something of yourself! The name 'David Xavier' will be in newspapers all over! And I'll get to go around saying 'That's my son. He's my amazing boy.'"_

_Charles continued to brag about how David was going to grow up to be flawless, a god among men, contributing all kinds of things to different fields in the world. Winning cases for mutants and women and blacks and putting away criminals. Coming up with new medicines that could treat paralysis permanently with only one dose, curing cancer and Alzheimer's and all kinds of diseases. Becoming a world leader who championed equality for all people and getting the world's citizens to listen and practice what he preached._

_When David woke up the next morning, head pounding as his father slept on the bed, words slammed at him, bounding around his skull. Tormenting him as he escaped to his own room, to the bathroom there, and threw up until only bile was left._

"_We both know that won't happen to you, David. We both know you're not going to be good for anything no matter how old you get. I just wish I could've known how you'd turn out before I even had sex with your mother."_


	8. We Are Giants

_Thank you to Narutoske and NotMarge for dropping some reviews to me! I appreciate it immensely, especially now this story has come to a close. I don't know that I'll continue in a sequel unless there's interest, though I'll still post oneshots from David's childhood, so watch for that._

* * *

"Dad!"

The telepath turned in his chair, Hank turning his head as well, and the burly man next to them. Charles's shock crashed waves over David's mind as he jogged over, tripping a little as he went because running had never been his forté. "Wh… _David_? What in God's name are you doing here?"

"How, exactly, did you know where we were?" Hank inquired, raising an eyebrow.

His plan was already falling apart, he could see it. He physically shrunk back, ducking his head as his shoulders hunched. No, no, this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. He was supposed to stay here, convince Erik to come back, make his life better. Finally, like it should be. Like he wanted it to be, so desperately. It had to be better. This couldn't be happening.

_David?_

The voice in his mind made him nearly jump out of his skin, as his eyes and face burned. Only his father had ever been able to see through his mental disguise of his physical features, and so their real eyes met when he dared to lift his head. Heterochromia. A rarer mutation, and what luck that his father had flirted with a girl and had a son with the same mutation. It had always been a source of strife for David, eyes so different from everyone else's that it made him a freak.

_Don't send me away. I don't want to go away._ His entire being pleaded with his father, knowing if this didn't work, nothing would. He didn't have the skill to trick anyone into letting him inside, which was why he'd approached his father at all. He… didn't have faith in the man like he once had. Something had come down between them, something irreparable.

"He's with us," Charles told the other two men. "David, this is Logan. Logan, this is-"

"I know him," Logan replied, looking at David in a way that made his skin crawl. There was no sign of morbidity or perversion in the stare, only curiosity and… fascination? Did he have that right?

His father had trained him, drilling repeatedly into his head how to analyze and properly recognize emotions. He kept praying he was good at it by this point, after so much practice. He watched television constantly as a child, and looked through all kinds of picture books, magazines, and newspapers to practice identifying emotions. So, hopefully, he had Logan's emotions right. The telepathy helped, somewhat.

"What happened to him?" Hank asked, cryptically, because David couldn't understand what he possibly meant. What happened to him? He was right here.

Logan grimaced. "If it came down to it, there were only gonna be a few mutants left, eventually. Me, maybe one of the teleporters and some mutant shields, and him." Logan gestured at David.

He still didn't understand. That made no sense whatsoever, so he chose to ignore it. If he didn't understand something, his knee jerk reaction was to disregard the information entirely as being ridiculous, choosing to view it as meaningless to himself. Only the things he really thought might become worth understanding did he choose to pursue.

Hank pushed his father through the metal detector, and the stupid thing went off due to his chair. David cringed back, accidentally hitting Logan, and clenched his fists at the loud, though brief, alarm blare. The guard, however, let his father and Hank move on with no trouble, the telepath conveniently making the guard think all four of them had tickets into the event.

He hadn't actually taken time to study the event. Something about it being at the White House and involving Trask, however, rubbed him the wrong way. He knew about Trask. The man had been a prominent scientist in the past few years, and Hank and Cecilia had kept tabs on the weirdo the whole time. If Trask was at the heart of the US, then it likely did not bode well for mutants.

A small smile quirked his lips upward. Didn't bode well for mutants that weren't him. David, though… He could take Trask down if he wanted. Squish the man like he was an ant and David was the boot. Ant, boot. It would be so pathetically easy, if Trask proved to turn worse. As of right now, though, he was of little concern. Why did Aunt Raven desire to kill him so badly, thirst for his blood so desperately?

As he stood with the three men, he could sense on the edge of his consciousness his father sifting through minds in the crowd. Searching for Aunt Raven as desperately as she sought out Trask. Some peppy upbeat vomit-inducing political tune started up, making David roll his eyes as he saw President Nixon walk up onto the stage. He gave the two handed sign for peace, which David thought was laughable since the man was… an idiot, at best, when it came to peace. He leaned into the microphones on the podium, and David couldn't help but lean forward to listen intently. Plus, he'd never gotten a real life visual of the indent in Nixon's nose. It had always fascinated him on television, so he now leaned closer in an eager bid to see it himself.

"In the immortal words of Robert Oppenheimer, 'Behold: for the world will never be the same again.'"

_Wait… Oppenheimer regretted the atomic bombs… What the _fuck _are those?_

David blinked, visibly balking at the hulking purple and silver things on the stage behind the human men. What… what were those things? Robots? Who would make robots? Sure, science fiction was a pretty cool thing in the past few years, but… why make giant robots? Did they even work? What did they do?

_David, be very careful,_ his father's voice ghosted into his mind, startling him again.

_What's going on? What _are _those things?_

_Our extinction._

Oh, God.

Those monster things would… would _end_ them. They would _end_ his species as a whole. That…

David whirled his head around to look at Logan, who was swiftly moving away with Hank, towards a man in a suit who had frozen near the stage.

"Raven," he breathed, shaking his head to clear it.

Nothing made sense anymore. Not Trask, not Nixon, not his father, not Logan, not Erik or Raven or those killer machines. 1984 had given him nightmares after reading it. Was this… what they were approaching? Something as psychotic and invasive and twisted as _that_?

_That was a fucking _cautionary _tale, Mr. President! _David wanted to shout and rage. _It wasn't meant to be a guide for how to run the country!_

Then, his next thought, a turn on the old slogan of anti-Communist protestors.

_Better Red than dead. Is it too late to jump ship to Russia?_

David clenched his fists, stuffing them in his pockets as his heart pounded, blinking up at the machines. Wait… what was on his periphery? Something… something moving.

Oh, God. They'd come alive.

The eight machines rose into the air slowly, like balloons-demonic, humanoid balloons-floating above the people on the stage for a few moments. Then one lifted its arm, and David choked just before bullets sprayed the now screaming humans around them.

It was almost comical, the way the humans scattered like wild animals, running screeching in every direction, so long as they got away from this death machine. David ducked down next to his father, covering his head as he'd been taught to do those few years he'd spent in a real school.

His father was shouting something, screaming until he was hoarse, but David's heart stopped as he realized what it was. Erik. Erik. Erik. Erik. Erik.

"Nooo!" He cried out, springing up to look at the sky, which had a fast approaching… what the fuck was that? A giant… ring?

It began to drop, gaining speed as it did, and he stumbled back, tripping. Falling to the ground with a grunt, he wasn't able to stop the chunks of cement and steel crossbars descending on his father, who was immobile and unable to run if he tried.

It was futile anyway. David couldn't likely have stopped it if he'd seen it in time. He scrambled backward a even more, the motion reminding him somewhat of the crab walks he'd done as a child in gym class. He felt unexpected relief to see his father wasn't crushed to bits between his chair and the cement, but had rolled himself out of the way mere seconds before. But David still had to dodge the falling projectiles, reminding him of the fascination he'd had with asteroids gaining speed and momentum as they descending through Earth's atmosphere. If any of these things fell on him, he'd bet all his inheritance he'd be done for. These things had too much momentum already, they were smashing into the grass and breaking it up as they dug into it, rather than bouncing off. He blood and guts would be splattered everywhere if one of those things crushed him, so he had to move.

And move he did. He hauled ass, not sure where he was going, just scattering like a wild animal as he'd seen the humans do before. All his instincts were shrilling like claxons in his mind, telling him to get out of the way. _Move, you bitch, move_, he snapped at himself, praying to God he wouldn't trip. If he tripped, that'd be it.

"David!"

He veered off in the direction of that voice, repeating his name as a lighthouse beacon until he found himself staggering, climbing up over a chunk of cement and scraping his hands raw to get to Hank and Logan. The former caught him from tripping and busting his head open on another, smaller chunk of the same ugly grey material. As he breathed hard, gasps hoarse and shallow as his lungs screamed at him for more air, he tried to not throw up and listen to what was happening next. Because Hank and Logan were the adults. They had the plans, the next moves, the motives, the endgame figured out. Adults did that. He was just the kid. He'd follow along with what they did if it fit into his overall scheme.

"You know, I'm probably not supposed to ask this kind of thing, but… In the future, do I make it?"

"No."

David snorted at the look on Hank's face.

"But we can change that. Right?"

Something passed between them, probably a conversation they'd had before he'd arrived, but David didn't have time for that. "What're we doing?"

"Taking down that shithead in the bucket and drapes," Logan informed him very colloquially, pointing at…

Holy fuck it really was Erik.

"Wait," David gasped, grabbing Logan's arm even though it went against everything he believed in as far as physical contact.

"Kid, it's now or never. If you're not gonna fight, then go get your dad."

David shook his head. "No, no, listen to me." He pulled on Logan's shirt. "No, _listen_ to me!" When Hank and Logan gave him their attention, he moaned. "You can't kill him. I need him."

"What?" Hank blinked. "David, he's here to murder people. He has to be stopped."

"I _need_ him!" David snapped. "Dad doesn't care about me anymore! I need someone to care, goddammit! Erik is the only one who does!"

"We don't have time for this shit," Logan growled, shoving David back. "Go get Charles and save the sob story for when we're not trying to stop our deaths." Logan nodded to Hank, and the man ripped his glasses off, letting himself turn all blue and stupid fucking hairy. David stormed away, fists clenched as he tried to think.

They were going to kill Erik. He…

Could he sabotage them? He'd… he'd already drugged Cecilia to make his way here. What was a little more sabotage? Those machines had metal, so Erik could control them. If he could talk to Erik without anyone trying to hurt him, then he'd be in the clear. He could somehow convince Erik to come back with him, take care of him. Give a damn what he needed and what he wanted. He didn't know how he'd convince the man, but he would. He would, come hell or high water. Because if he didn't, then… he had nothing. When he had nothing, bad things happened. Very bad things. Things that involved antifreeze, bleach, nooses, or bullets.

He had to sabotage them. His father… his father didn't care about him. Why should he be the nice one and care about his father? Charles Xavier didn't deserve the courtesy. So David turned back to where Logan and Hank had gone, and peered over the cement chunk.

The machine was attacking the two men, trying to shake them off as they kept scratching at it. Like kittens playing with a ball of yarn. David clambered over the concrete, running as fast as he could past the machine and hoping it didn't attack him. He didn't have the kind of harness over his telekinesis that Erik had. He slowed, feet sliding on the grass a little as he did, but he didn't want to startle the helmeted man.

"Erik?"

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be, less confident, but… he could play that angle too. He could use that pitiful tone to get Erik to stay. Make Erik think more that he needed someone to protect him. Like Erik had promised.

The man turned, and David saw some recognition on his face after a second had passed. "What are you doing here, kleiner?" They both knew that while the term of endearment had slipped out accidentally, Erik still meant the sentiment behind it.

"I need you," he blurted out, screwing any preface. If he didn't make this quick, something could go wrong and his one chance would be shot to hell. He refused to take the risk.

"For what?"

_David? What are you doing?_

_Fuck off,_ David snarled at his father's voice prodding at him, slamming up his mental shields and blocking him out.

"You promised you'd take care of me." David crossed his arms. "I need that now. And…" He shook his head. "And, no, I don't have _him_. He's a worthless excuse for a person, let alone a caretaker." Taking a step forward, he reminded Erik again. "You made a promise."

Erik was unable to reply, and David whirled around to see Logan running toward them. Erik threw several objects in his path, causing David to duck out of the way and tuck himself behind one of the few chairs still standing near the stage.

He gagged when the metal wiring, thick like snakes, released itself from the concrete and stabbed itself into Logan's body. David shut his eyes, covering his ears to block out the worst of the man's screaming as he screamed himself hoarse, keeping his mouth shut so no one, least of all Erik, would hear him. The man's agony, before David could shore up his defenses, was enough to have him rocking back and forth in a ball, sobbing. This was worse than Cerebro, if it was possible. Perhaps it was because he couldn't disconnect himself or collapse into a seizure so easily, as he had with the domed, almost-sentient machine.

Nearly collapsing with relief when Logan was suddenly thrown away, mentally and physically, David cracked his eyes open a bit to see Erik, who had turned to face him.

No… not him. The boy turned to look behind him, at the great house of white, and shuddered when in his mind he felt a rumbling several feet below the building. What in God's name was Erik doing? He uncurled himself, on all fours as he edged back, despite wanting a closer look. Something shot up within the White House, shattering the front windows and columns as it lunged forward at the same time David leapt backward to be closer to Erik. The man would protect him, if it came down to it. He was certain of that much, at least.

The metal manipulator looked down at David crouching beside him, something akin to happiness in his gaze but nowhere evident on the rest of his face, before he grabbed at the metal front of the giant black box and pulled it diagonally downward with great force. It ripped the whole wall away, to reveal so many frightened men. Like small children…

No. Skittering insects, cringing back from the man who had more power than they could possibly imagine or comprehend. Power they would never be able to challenge. David couldn't help flashing a grin at them, unafraid at the thought of Erik shredding them to tiny bits. This was what they deserved. For creating these evil machines that would ruin mutantkind, for authorizing their use on a whole species of people. For having the audacity to use them as a symbol of hope and good and happiness. Homo superior never felt more of an apt description than it did now.

"You created these machines to destroy us. _Why_? Because you are afraid of our gifts. Because we are different. And humanity has always feared that which is different."

Erik's speech was filled to the brim with power. It spilled over, exuding from the man standing before these insects and drifting out to David. He took that power, letting it lift him. His mind glowed as he breathed in Erik's words, closing his eyes as he took on a more empowered air. He clung to the language, committing as much of it to memory as he could in this moment.

"Well, I am here to tell you, to tell the world, you are right to fear us! We are the future! We are the ones who will inherit this earth! And anyone who stands in our way will suffer the same fate as these men you see before you!"

_Yes_. God, _yes_. David slowly rose, holding his head high and his entire being tall as he stood at Erik's side. _We_ are the future. Not you. You will die, you will suffer for what you have tried to do. You will suffer for what you wanted to do to us. This is what you deserve, filth.

"Today was meant to be a display of your power-instead, I give you a mere _glimpse_ of the devastation my race can inflict upon yours. Let this be a warning to all of you." Erik paused, allowing the message to sink in as the cameras broadcasted his defining words across the nation, which would soon reach the entire world. It would be beautiful to see humans revere their kind, rather than hate and try to abuse them.

"And to all my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: No more hiding. No more suffering. You have lived in the shadows of shame and fear for too long." Erik let his eyes slide to the side, to meet David's shining gaze. "Come out; join me. Fight together in a brotherhood of our kind. A new tomorrow that starts today!"

They both turned, but something within David made him hesitate as Erik stepped forward, reaching out to the pistols floating in the air as they menacingly pointed at the men who were responsible for mutant extinction.

Why was he hesitating? Why did he suddenly feel… frightened? He believed in Erik. He believed in everything he'd said. He believed mutants would conquer all they saw and that they would rule this universe. There was no reason for him to feel tentative or scared of any of this. Erik would protect him, after all, if something posed a threat. Erik would make sure David was taken care of, would listen to his interests, would love him as his father hadn't in years.

He couldn't shake the sudden dread, no matter how hard he tried to shove it down or throw it out. Nor could he silence the rapidly building voices in his head.

A redhead, who could use echolocation and fly. _Man, that guy isn't what you want to be around. … Trust me on this, dude._

A monster of a man, who first bore the helmet on Erik's head. _Have you forgotten how he killed me? I created him, everything he is, and he still betrayed me._

A telepath, like he and his father, who had been called the White Queen. _Much as I hate to disappoint you, sugar, he's never been a good "friend."_

A demonic looking man who had turned out, in the end, to be a truly good person. _Da, Vhite Queen is correct, malyutka. A strong leader ov his people, but not really vhe best ally._

A man who almost always wore a purple suit, and likely the only one who could pull it off. _Niño, I do admire your conviction, but if even Shaw can recognize Erik isn't one to associate with, then you might want to recognize it yourself._

A woman who David had always loved for her fairy wings and her doll-like appearance. _Ditto what everyone else already told you. We're trying to look out for you, you know?_

David slowly stepped back, putting his hands to his head as he shut his eyes. He… strangely wasn't having a panic attack from all the voices suddenly surging to life in his head, but he was now more conflicted than ever. _Why _shouldn't _I want to be around Erik? What's so bad about him? He cared about me. He made me feel safe when I had a nightmare. He taught me chess and German. He _loved _me._

_Past tense is the key, _Emma's voice broke into his thoughts again. _The "-ed" really proves our point better than anything else._

_Shut up! No one asked you! You're just a stupid fake blonde bitch who-_

_Oooh, personal attacks when someone disagrees with you. You should run for president._

David whimpered, though Emma prodding him to look up made him reluctantly do so, furrowing his brow. What… what was Nixon doing? Why would he step up and make that sacrifice?

Erik wouldn't spare him...

Wait a minute. He squinted, and his eyes enlarged out of shock. _Raven! What are you doing?_

_David, move!_ Sean's voice screeched in his head, the sound reverberating painfully around his skull as he dove out of the way, just missing being stomped underfoot by the giant machine storming toward them. He lay gasping as he observed Erik tearing it apart until it twitched and died, letting head fall back on the grass. Then he bolted upright when he remembered Aunt Raven was standing in front of Erik, who didn't realize it was her-

And got to see the lovely image of a bullet exiting Erik's neck, the man falling to his knees and pressing a hand to the wound. He muttered something unintelligible as the guns fell, the metal around them seeming to lose that living, humming quality it had when Erik's concentration fell upon it. Then the false Nixon shifted, scales drawing back to reveal the blue woman David knew far better. She kicked Erik further to the ground, knocking him unconscious before she turned gracefully and pointed the gun in her hand at Trask. Her target all along.

The shivering men in the black box froze without warning, causing David's brow to furrow, and then he understood when he saw a projection of Charles appear in front of Trask.

David edged forward, trying to be quiet and not draw attention to himself, because honestly, he was afraid Raven might startle and shoot him. Crawling along the grass, he approached Erik and looked down at the man, trying not to panic at how lifeless he looked. It always freaked him out to watch people be unconscious though. Even as a little boy, it bothered him. People were… supposed to be awake and confusing and talkative and aggravating. Being unconscious made them vulnerable and readable and silent, which disturbed David more than it cheered him. Seeing Erik, of all people, in this state forced the boy through the threshold into a house of panic.

_Please, God, I know I said I wanted you gone from my life because you couldn't possibly be real, but don't let Erik be hurt. Please._

When he heard the gun fall softly into the grass, David's head turned to look at Raven, whose yellow eyes met his. Hers were first of confusion, then understand of his presence here, and finally bitterness as she viewed him as crouching protectively over Erik. She strode forward, ignoring the shaking boy, and ripped the helmet off Erik's head before dropping it several feet away. David moved back from the man when his eyes suddenly opened, eerily and not at all what he knew to be Erik, but to be Charles. The unwillingly conscious man outstretched an arm, lifting up the metal crossbars that had pinned Charles underneath, and Hank helped the man to his feet, Charles almost entirely hanging off the scientist.

Erik looked first down at the helmet on the ground, then over at Charles. "If you let them have me, I'm as good as dead. You know that."

"I know."

David's eyes flickered between the two men, recognizing then that he would have to choose. The two greatest active forces in his life, now his mother was blessedly absent from him. The blue haired boy, squeezed his eyes shut as he got to his feet, opening them to see Erik and Charles both gazing at him.

His words surprised even him, coming up like word vomit and barely recognizable as a part of him at all. Yet… once he did spit them out, his soul surged to life, embracing what he'd said with true conviction in his heart.

"I choose neither of you, because you'll both ruin me if I stay. Goodbye."

David didn't look back as he strode away from the space standing between the two men. He didn't care to see their reactions, because they were inconsequential. This was his life, and he would decide entirely what to do with it. He'd realized it in Cerebro, but now he truly understood what that meant. It didn't mean begging Erik to stay and protect him, nor did it mean listening to whatever his father talked about as of late.

Regardless of being autistic or mutant or anything, he had a right to choose what he would do in life, and he would exercise that right once and for all. David was capable.


End file.
